


Son of Icarus

by Mothernerd



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Abuse, Domestic Violence, M/M, Self-Harm, Self-Hatred, Suicide Attempt, idk the whole thing is Dirks pov, idk what to tag, it any of this triggers you please read at your own risk, this was originally one of my school projects but i rewrote it
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-12-11
Updated: 2015-12-11
Packaged: 2018-05-06 05:48:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,790
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5405309
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mothernerd/pseuds/Mothernerd
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>You hear his hard footsteps up the stairs in the building you lived in. angry steps that gets louder, you wondered if someone killed one of his loved ones. If you believed in god, you would have prayed now.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Son of Icarus

**Author's Note:**

> So this is the first fic I actually publish here.  
> please read on your own terms, if you have any triggers please be ware.  
> and if I have forgotten a "trigger", please ask me to change or add them.
> 
> Please enjoy.
> 
> (Rights reserved to Hussie. I do not own homestuck)

Green. Everything is so green.

You like the color green, it is like a cold wind on a hot summers day, but this green. A nasty hideous green, not the calm green you love so much nor the pastel green. But a grotesque kind of green. You want to puke just looking at it, you retch. It is too strong; it suits him to well. Its not a neon color, but it kind of is. For you who sit in front of a computer all day, its hard for you to actually put a finger on what kind of green it actually is. You only know it makes you sick. But you manage to say that it is a cold kind of green, it hates you as much as you hate it. It is like an evidence, and for all its worth it is too. You hate it with all your being, you want to destroy it. Burn it with gasoline and a fire lit match. You hate it so much. And right now, as if that was not enough, he wears it. He smiles at you like he think you’re stupid. You are, are you not? It surprises you that it took you so long to figure it out, you amaze your self each time you think of it.

 

You actually helped buying the ugly sweater, with a friend of you. She had said it was for her boyfriend, he wanted a green sweater, it was a gift for their one-year anniversary.  She held his name a secret while she chatted away about announcing their relationship after new year. You where in as much ecstasy as she was when she told you. Good god how gullible you are. The day after he had come home with the green ugly thing in a paper bag, smelling of sweet frosting and expensive perfume matching with a bad mood. Today where no different.  

 

You hear his hard footsteps up the stairs in the building you lived in. angry steps that gets louder, you wondered if someone killed one of his loved ones. If you believed in god, you would have prayed now. Violent are not a word you would describe his actions, but it comes close does it not? He unlocks the door. You stand unmoving in the kitchen with the food you cooked over two hours ago. Your food is untouched; you don’t feel like eating. You’re exhausted in contrast to what he is. Full of energy and anger. Had it been a god, must he show mercy right now. But with your luck; the world doesn’t work that way.

 

He comes bursting in through the door, yelling at you for not cleaning good enough. You try to tell him that you do in fact have a job and cant be home all the time. No you can’t, you do everything in this apartment and still he expects so much more. But he does not listen he only hears the blood boiling in his veins. He lifts you up a carries you to your room, and throws you on the bed. You don’t loose your breath; the bed is to soft for that.

 

But he rips of your clothes, sweater and shirt, he bites your porcelain skin, pulls your blonde almost white hair. What could have been a hickey is instead a bruise with teeth marks engraved in it. Angry and hard, his whole being is angry and hard. He marks you, like you are one of his possessions. You whimper under your breath, a moan. He presses in without a warning or preparations, this time you loose your breath. It stings; you tell yourself that it will settle soon. He does not think of you, he does what he wants. Everything is brutal and makes you whimper in pain.

 

 

When he is done, he lifts himself up and walks to the little bathroom with that one wall covered in indigo purple tiles and takes a shower. One minute becomes ten, and ten becomes thirty. He comes out of the shower and lays beside you with his back turned towards you. You stare at the sealing; you decide that you should take a shower too. Maybe the soreness will go away if you do, maybe it will go away in the morning. You can only dream.

 

You finish showering and you stand look at yourself in the mirror. Porcelain that is what you are. Everyone has known since you where small. You’re thin almost sickly so. Nothing helps when you decide to try and gain weight, don’t want to only be skin and bones. Don’t want to blow away in the wind.

 

Blue marks on your body like cracks in a vase covers your stomach, your collarbone and hand prints on your waist after the hard grip he had on you earlier. You wish for yourself that he was as gentle with you as he is with her. She has told you how her “secret” boyfriend is so gentle, with eyes looking at her with adoration and love. How he worships every inch of her body. You have to admit that she is prettier to look at, with caramel colored skin like silk, perfect perky breasts, and legs that stretches for miles. Yes, she is the epitome of the perfect human being. Why can’t this be you. You stifle a sob, tears flow in streams down your cheek. you hear sounds from the room, so you keep quiet and lay your ear to the door.

 

“Jane… I can’t do this anymore.” He pauses.

“that’s not the point. Roxy and John knows everything”

 

you lower yourself to the floor and lean on the door. They know? Your belly twists.

 

“no. this has gone to far, have it not? Nobody has the courage to say it. Yes yes, I love you too. Good night Jane.”

 

You crawl over to the toilet. Everything comes up, you retch over it. Your whole body is numb, can’t feel your feet, but you manage to stand either way. Dragging yourself to the sink, and reach your hand to the medicine cabinet. You take a look at yourself. You swore to him and yourself that you had quit, but the reflection in the mirror is lying. How can anybody love you if you and the voices in your head hates your very being.

 

 You slide the razor against your thigh, streams of blood drips down your gangly foot. Holes in your body; that’s what you’re making. Like the empty holes that’s in your body. You only make them more visible. Nobody can see the scars, they are white. They don’t even turn a light pink. You look through teary eyes that yes, dark red suits you much better than bone white.

 

You want to yell, to scream profanities, but it only comes out as a choked desperate wheeze. Everything hurts. Although you already knew, hearing him actually say he loved her hurt. You have never heard him say it until now. Why can’t it be you? Why couldn’t he love you enough to actually say that it had to end? Why can’t he love you like her? Why can’t he just say it, end this suffering, let the hole that is eating you up try to heal? He only makes it worse. The voices in your head screams, yelling why he doesn’t love you. They’re splinters of you. They hate you. Want you six feet under and as cold as snow. End everything. Yes, wouldn’t that be good?

 

After cleaning and putting bandages on your wounds, you put on an indigo night shorts that hugs your ass perfectly. You sneak in under the covers and stare at the sealing again.

 

“you hear it didn’t you?”

“mmh… I already knew”

“how long have you known?”

“I helped her pick the color of the green sweater.” You sigh and continue.

“It dawned on me when you came home with it.”

“oh… I was going to tell you.”

You let out a bitter laugh “ yeah right”

“but why didn’t you say anything?”

 

feel the bed dip beside you and hear the rustling of the duvet.

 

you stay quiet after this, finally you whisper “ignorance is bliss, isn’t that what they say.”

 

He sighs heavily beside you, so you decide to go for a smoke. Sleep wasn’t your best friend. So you walk out on the balcony and look at the city life below you with a pack of cigarettes and your lighter in hand.

 

You light one, the embers bathe your face in dull orange glow. The snow is falling silently and slow. Makes everything so calmingly quiet. You stand there in the cold with his jack, a dark green one. It smells of frosting and sweet expensive Chanel perfume. Jane has used this too. it was once yours, when you thought you and Jake still where in love, when you first started dating.

 

You blow smoke on it, trying to get the sweet stench away that makes your nose itch. You take another drag and another. Smoke is seeping out your nose. You like to think that you are in a painting when you stand still on nights like these. Pink plush lips, half lidded eyes, the weak orange glow as the only light, hair down and white eyelashes. Yes, you like to think that this is what Caliborn saw when you first meet.

 

You laugh bitterly of yourself, with smoke seeping out of your mouth, a mix of frozen breath and tobacco smoke.

 

Walking in again you tell him to be gone by daybreak and you tell him you are going for a walk.

 

So you walk and walk, you walk far. Walk where you first meet. You’re crying now along the dimly lit street.  A man walks up to you, asks you how you’re doing. You break down, begging him to take you away. Cling to his clothes. You beg with a choked voice to take you far away, and he does.  He takes you home, kisses your bruises on the porcelain white skin, he worships your body. Tells you how pretty you are. You moan as he takes you slowly, you are doing this the whole night. You’re as sore as you where but this time you’re empty inside.

But you leave a note with your number on it.

 

You walk down the streets you find, teetering on frostbitten legs.

 

screeching tires.

grotesque cracking sounds.

You’re not white anymore.

You’re beautiful blood red.

You smile.

Everything’s dark.

Its over now.

You weren’t meant to fly.

 

* * *

  

Loud yelling.

Beeping.

People crying.

The man from “last night”, Roxy with tear stained cheeks.

Your body aches.

why are you awake?

**Author's Note:**

> the will/may come more parts, depends on how well this does, the first chapter is short.  
> I hope it does.  
> this was originally a school project, not including the names from homestuck. but I rewrote it to english.  
> Pardon me if my english isnt the best.


End file.
